


He's in Love

by Violette_Witch



Series: Supernatural Season Overviews [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mention of past Dean Winchester/Lisa Braeden, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:15:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23955961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violette_Witch/pseuds/Violette_Witch
Summary: Mary Winchester is back, but there's so much she doesn't understand about her sons. Specifically Dean seems to be struggling with feelings he can't accept.As the year continues, emotions run high and the Winchesters try to hold on to each other, and to Castiel, as they save the world from ending, yet again.Basically this is an overview of Season 12, told through small conversations between episodes.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Mary Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Supernatural Season Overviews [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779163
Comments: 12
Kudos: 50





	1. Have You Ever Been In Love?

The bunker was, in a lot of ways, a dream come true to Mary Winchester. A never-ending supply of books on lore, hunting, history. A compendium of lost knowledge and the great heritage of hunters. But more than that it was a home for her boys. From what she heard they hadn’t ever had one of those, and she loved that she could see the little signs of their lives all around the bunker. The marks left on surfaces where the boys refused to use coasters, the scuff marks their boots left when they propped their feet up on tables and chairs, books with pages dog eared and marked up, leftover from previous hunts. 

But the bunker still felt so … empty to her. So full of things she didn’t understand, things she didn’t fit with anymore. At the top of that list was her boys. How do you get to know a 33 year old man who is apparently your baby boy? She’d never even heard Sam speak, and now he towered over her and offered to _teach_ her things. And Dean … the last she’d seen of him he’d been a four-year-old boy who loved nothing more than hanging off his father’s arm and talking, talking endlessly about nothing. Now he was stoic and scarred. She hadn’t missed the pained look on his face when she’d mentioned what a good father John was in her memory. What had happened to her beloved John? What had he become? She almost didn’t want to know, not if it was the source of the pain in her sons’ eyes.

That was only one of the many questions she had but was too afraid to ask. She’d missed so many milestones, so many memories. What was Sam’s first word? When did he learn to walk? What was their favorite subject in school? She had wanted to help them with science projects and prom dates and sports games and getting their first jobs. But she supposed they hadn’t had any of those anyway, not with the way they grew up. On the road, always chasing the next job. Just like her childhood. 

She wanted to know them though, her boys. And the only way that was going to happen was through talking.

Mary and Dean sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee in silence. Mary smiled at Dean, “So,” she began, only a little awkward, “do you mind if I ask you some … getting to know you questions?”

Dean raised an eyebrow, then chuckled, “Sure mom, ask anything.”

She pondered for moment, wanting to ask the right thing. There was something she had been wondering since her first time in the bunker, but she wasn’t sure how to address it. Eventually she asked, “Have you ever been in love?”

Dean seemed taken aback, and he laughed awkwardly, then took a sip of his coffee, stalling. After a moment he nodded, “There was one,” he admitted, “I’ve gotta be honest mom, I’m not really a relationship person. I mean, you know the job, it doesn’t really allow for one. But there was this girl, Lisa.”

Mary smiled, “Lisa, huh? That’s a pretty name.”

Dean chuckled, “Yeah, she was pretty, alright. And smart and strong and … she had this kid named Ben. He was just … man, he was the best. Looked up to me, wanted to be like me,” there was emotion creeping into Dean’s voice and Mary could tell he wasn’t comfortable showing it to her, at least not yet. Maybe not ever.

“What happened?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking, even though it almost felt like prying into a stranger’s life.

“I actually, um … lived with them for a while,” Dean said, his voice returning back to a conversational tone, “had a regular old nuclear family for a minute there.”

“You didn’t tell me you got out too,” Mary said, surprised. He’d mentioned that Sam had gone to college, but Dean made it sound like hunting was the only life he’d ever known.

“That’s cause I didn’t,” Dean replied, “I tried but … Sammy was MIA, I thought I’d never see him again and I hadn’t heard from Cas, so I tried to … move on. But it didn’t work out. That life just doesn’t work for me. I have to be … here. Working, hunting. Otherwise I suffocate.”

“Have you ever thought of looking for them again?” she asked.

“No, they … they’ve forgotten about me,” Dean said, and from the way he said it Mary got the feeling that this was something official. Dean wasn’t just saying it had been a long time or pretending he hadn’t mattered to them. He was certain they had no memory of him. And with the company he kept, that wasn’t entirely impossible. “Besides, like I said. It’s not my scene. I can’t do the whole …. “ he trailed off, waving his hand away from himself, as if brushing away an irrelevant idea.

“And there hasn’t been anyone else?” Mary asked.

It was brief, but Dean hesitated slightly before shaking his head, “No, not really.”

“Not even someone who is already a part of this life? Another hunter, an angel … or, something?”

The question was out of her mouth before she could talk herself out of asking. She tried to throw it in casually, but then again, how do you casually reference the possibility of your son (who, reminder, is now suddenly in his 30’s) dating an angel? But, she had said it. No taking it back now.

“No,” Dean responded, then hesitated as he processed her full question, “an angel? What? … I mean there was Anna but … how could you know about that? What? Why would you say that?” He was muttering almost to himself now, more than talking to her, and she thought she’d seen an extra wall of defenses suddenly appear around his already walled off emotions.

Mary raised her hands up, palms facing Dean in a sign of peace, “Whoa, I’m sorry. I don’t know about any Anna. I just meant …” she waited a moment for Dean to meet her eyes, “you and Castiel seem kinda close, but if I’m –”

“What?!?!” Dean exclaimed, letting out a harsh laugh. “Cas? NO. Mom, what the hell? Why would you say that?” Mary shrugged her shoulders, ready to let the matter drop, but Dean pushed. “Why would you say that? What could possibly make you think that?” He was trying to laugh it away, but the extra wall of defenses was definitely there.

“I’m sorry Dean,” Mary said, “I didn’t mean to misunderstand.”

“No, seriously,” Dean said, “I want to know why you thought that. Give me some reasons.”

Mary raised an eyebrow at her 37-year-old son, who, by her approximations, was acting like someone who had been caught with his hand in a cookie jar and was desperately trying to prove his innocence. “You really wanna hear it?”

“I really do.”

He really did? Well, alright, then she was going to lay it out for him exactly as she had seen it. Maybe it was presumptuous of her to think she knew his emotions better than he did after only a few days of knowing him, but what was it they said about a mother’s intuition? “Well, alright. First, when I first met him. You guys hugged, he seemed _very_ glad to see you.”

“He thought I was dead. Mom!”

“Then you introduced him to me, said his name and … y’know maybe I was wrong, but it seemed to mean something _special_ to you.”

“He’d been possessed by Lucifer for months! I’m just … “

Well that was new information, but Mary was on a roll now. “After that, he did everything you asked. You sent him out searching for Sam while you sat here with me, and he didn’t complain. He is incredibly loyal to you. And I swear I caught the two of you glancing at each other in the car ride when you thought the other wasn’t looking,” Dean scoffed at this, “When you didn’t want me to follow you into the house – which, again, was a stupid decision – you and he had a … a silent conversation with just your eyes. The kind of conversation I’ve only ever had with John. He seems to be very protective of you. Then I find that he lives here, in the bunker, with you and Sam.”

“Well, that’s kind of a –”

“And I know I’ve only been here a few days, but I’ve seen the way you two interact. The way you _look_ at him, the way he looks at you. It’s just obvious the two of you mean a lot to each other” Mary finished, “again, I didn’t mean to misinterpret.”

“Well, yeah,” Dean admitted, “yeah, we matter to each other. We have been through a lot together, and I mean A LOT. Things you probably can’t even imagine – and yeah, we help each other out and protect each other. That doesn’t mean anything like _that_. Cas and I, we’re like … we’re like brothers, ok? We’re like …” he paused and looked away from her, seeming to search for a better descriptor, but not finding one, “But, God, Mom, I’m not … I’m not gay!”

“Okay!” Mary conceded. After a moment she added, “but you know it would be ok if you were, right?” just in case.

Dean opened his mouth, but at that moment Castiel entered the kitchen. He stood stiffly in the doorway, eyeing the two Winchesters warily.

“Good morning Castiel,” Mary said eventually, “need some breakfast?”

“No,” he answered simply, “I don’t … eat. I was looking for clues to where Lucifer might be, but I thought I heard my name from in here.”

“Oh, I was just, telling mom here some stories about our grand adventures,” Dean said smoothly. A moment past, then he stood abruptly, “anyway, I should go … shower.” And with that, he was gone.


	2. You asked him about Cas, didn’t you?

Mary and Castiel were left looking at each other awkwardly, until Sam came in through the doorway Dean had just left through.

“What’s up with Dean?” he asked, pouring himself a mug of coffee and sitting down across from Mary. “I walked past him in the hallway, and he didn’t even look at me.”

“I think I upset him,” she said with a sigh.

“Why, what did you do?”

Mary glanced briefly at Castiel. He was staring at her, eyes slightly narrowed, and she had no idea what he was thinking or how much of the conversation he had heard. He was an angel after all, for all she knew he could hear her thoughts. She pursed her lips and answered Sam’s question, “I was just asking him about his life, relationships and things like that.”

“Oh,” Sam said, and he also glanced at Castiel, before returning his full attention to his cup of coffee. “Yeah, it can be hard for Dean to open up,” was all he said.

There was another moment of awkward silence, and then Castiel said, “I should … go. Keep looking for leads,” and he walked away.

Sam looked at Mary, his eyebrow raised, “You asked him about Cas, didn’t you?”

Mary sighed, “I – yeah.”

Sam chuckled slightly, “and let me guess, he got defensive, denied everything, and stormed off?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Sam sighed, seeming resigned, “yeah, he … I mean he represses a lot of things, but this is something that he’s buried. Like … _way_ deep down.”

“But you see it too?” Mary asked, “I’m not crazy or making things up?”

Sam tried to hide his laugh, “Oh yeah, I see it. I’ve _been_ seeing it for – what, going on 8 years now?”

“Seriously?” Mary couldn’t believe it had been that long.

“Oh yeah,” Sam said with a nod, then took a long drink of his coffee. “At first, I was a little jealous,” he admitted, “thought our new angel friend liked Dean better than me, trusted him more or whatever. But it’s not that.” He ran a hand through his hair, shaking out what remained of his bedhead, “Cas and I are friends. Good friends. But between him and Dean there’s…” he chuckled, “I hate to say it but ‘a more profound bond,’ is probably the best way to describe it.”

Mary raised her eyebrows at him, feeling like she was missing a joke.

“It’s uh … something Cas said. God, years ago. But it stuck with me, I don’t know why,” he shook his head. “But the tricky thing is, I don’t think either of them are willing, or maybe even able, to admit it. See Cas is an angel, and as human as he acts sometimes, there’s a lot he still doesn’t understand about being human, about emotions and everything. And Dean … well he’s wrapped himself in so many protective layers of toxic masculinity that sometimes I’m not sure when it’s him talking and when it’s just a defense mechanism.”

“You’ve been thinking about this for a long time, haven’t you?” Mary asked, a smile pulling at her lips. So far, her conversations with Sam had been stilted and short. They both had so much they wanted to ask each other but no idea how to start. But right now, Sam seemed comfortable, even eager, to talk. As if he’d been waiting for someone to share this with for a while.

He chuckled at her comment, “Yeah, Dean would kill me but I’ve been doing some research during my free time, if you can call it that,” Mary wasn’t sure if he was referring to the research or the free time, “umm, actually you wanna see some of what I’ve learned?”


	3. Internalized Homophobia

“I’ve read a lot – personal blog posts, academic articles, social experiments, psychology books – you name it.” Sam said, sitting on his bed beside his mom, laptop in hand. “Our friend Charlie helped a lot – she was kinda like a sister to us,” he said, smiling softly at the memory. “Also a lesbian, so she kinda introduced me to the LGBTQ set of terms, and online communities and stuff.”

Mary tilted her head in confusion, “LG…. what?”

Sam chuckled, “Right, yeah. You’ve been dead since the early eighties,” he paused, realizing that that was an insensitive comment, and glanced at his mom, but she seemed unphased so he continued, “it stands for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer. Basically, anyone who’s not – you know – straight.”

Mary nodded, peering at the screen, Sam had pulled up a YouTube playlist of coming out stories, “this is amazing,” she muttered. “I mean, I’ve known some gay people in my life, had a couple of friends, but it was usually like, something secret. But people just, go on the … _internet_ … and share their stories like it’s no big deal?”

Sam chuckled, “Well, yeah, that’s one of the good things that has changed in the last 30 years. I mean, it’s nowhere near perfect. Charlie had a ton of stories about discrimination, microaggressions, crap she had to deal with on a daily basis. But they can legally get married now. There are anti-discriminations laws being passed and general awareness and normalization is spreading. It’s getting better.”

“So… what about you?” Mary asked, looking at Sam, “are you L – G – B – T – Q?” she read the letters out carefully.

Sam laughed a little awkwardly, but he appreciated his mom trying. This was probably not a conversation she had been expecting to have. “No, no, I mean … I’m not closing any doors, y’know? But I’ve only ever liked girls. A lot,” he chuckled.

“Yeah?” Mary smiled back at him, and Sam was really grateful that somehow, this didn’t feel awkward. Despite the fact that he was talking to a woman he hadn’t even known until recently, about a topic that he usually never breached, he felt like … well, like he was just chatting with his mom. “You wanna tell me about some?”

“Huh, well,” memories of them – Jessica, Amelia, even Ruby – flashed through his mind, but he shook his head, “none of them have happy endings. Maybe … stories for another time.” Another name passed through his mind, but he didn’t have a story to tell about her yet. He was just at the beginning of that story, but he hoped it would have a happier ending than the rest did.

Mary nodded in understanding, and turned back to the computer, obviously trying to hide how amazed and confused she was by the way technology had advanced since her death. “So,” she said, steering the conversation back on track, “what does all this tell us about Dean?”

“Well,” Sam said, pulling up a specific page, “since he’s always been really into girls, we know he’s not _gay_ , but I’m pretty sure he’s bisexual.”

“Like David Bowie?” Mary asked

Sam chuckled, “Yeah, like David Bowie. But the thing is, Charlie and I were pretty sure that he’s struggling with a lot of internalized homophobia.” He pointed at the screen, which had the definition of that pulled up, as well as some advice about how to deal with it.

Mary was reading the screen intently, and Sam had an odd moment where he almost expected her to turn to him and ask _so how do we kill it?_ As if they were on a hunt, and the internalized homophobia were the next monster they needed to take out. In a way, that was almost how Sam thought of it. Obviously, it wasn’t deadly or anything like the monsters they usually hunted, but it was something that was robbing his brother of happiness. Happiness that Dean desperately needed. They went through too much heart ache and suffering, at least one of them deserved to be happy.

“Ok,” Mary said, sitting back after she had finished reading the page, “but you haven’t approached Dean about this? Ever?”

Sam sighed, “I mean, I’ve hinted, joked about it a few times, but never outright, no. Because, Dean gets defensive. This was something else Charlie and I talked about. She was adamant that if someone wasn’t ready to come out, you can _not_ try to force them out of the closet. Most of the time it just shoves them farther in and does more damage than good.”

“So … what?” Mary asked, frustration on her brow, “we just keep waiting? I mean you said this has been going on for 8 years – ”

“Well, technically it’s been going on for a lot longer than that,” Sam interrupted, “Dean’s just known Cas for 8 years, but he’s not the only guy Dean’s liked. Or, y’know, I’m pretty sure.” 

“Right, ok,” Mary said, “all the more reason to, I don’t know, give him a push, right?”

Sam sighed and shut his laptop, laying it aside, “the thing is Mom, it’s not really our place. Even though we’re his family and everything, it’s his life. It’s _his_ sexuality. We don’t have the right to tell him how he feels. We just have to, I don’t know, ‘create an environment where he feels safe telling us,’” he said, quoting one of the articles he had read about it.

Mary sighed and rolled her eyes, and Sam understood the frustration. As much as he wanted to, this wasn’t something he could just kill. This was deeply complex emotional stuff that Dean was dealing with – and Dean never dealt with that kind of thing well. He repressed, and he drank, and he sublimated, and they were lucky when, or if, he actually opened up. He’d been getting better at communicating, as had Sam – the two of them hadn’t fought they way they used to in a long time – but he still just kept pushing forward, refusing to process everything they’d gone through. Everything they were still going through. 

“What about Castiel?” Mary asked, “have you talked to him about any of this?”


	4. I Won’t Tell My Brother You Have a Crush on Him.

Sam placed the photo of Charlie back into his box of memories, putting the brochure from the nursing home where he’d met Eileen on top, and smiling softly at that memory. He should text her.

After debating over possible plans, he and Mary had taken a little break from speculating about Dean and she’d asked him to tell her more about Charlie. So, he’d pulled out the box and told her some stories; he stuck to good memories, Mary had gotten a kick out of imagining him and Dean all decked out as LARPers. It was nice, to remember that not everything they had done had been a tragedy. Sometimes he felt that way, especially when it came to people he felt responsible for.

“Sam.”

Sam turned, startled, “Hey, Cas, come on in,” he said, closing the box and turning to face his friend. “You … need something?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered, “I need … to talk.”

…

Castiel sat on Sam’s desk chair, honestly more nervous than he should have been. Sam sat on the edge of his bed, with his hands clasped in front of him, waiting expectantly. Castiel had a feeling he should try to build up to the conversation topic, but he didn’t know where to start. After a couple moments, he decided to just jump right into it. “I know what you’ve been discussing with Mary,” he said, meeting Sam’s eyes.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Castiel could tell that he’d made him uncomfortable, but he got the sense that no amount of small talk would have made the situation less awkward. 

“Alright then,” Sam said after a moment, “what about it?”

“What about –” Castiel shook his head in frustration, “You’re talking about me and Dean, being ….” He searched for a term, “romantically involved,” he settled on, looking at Sam intently.

Sam cleared his throat and sat up a bit taller, as if he were preparing himself for some kind of attack. “Ok, yeah. Actually we were … we were thinking of asking you about it, if Dean’s talked to you or if you’ve noticed –”

“Of course I’ve noticed,” Castiel interrupted, “but no, I haven’t talked to Dean about any potential ‘feelings.’ In case you missed it, Dean doesn’t share unless he wants to.”

“Right, yeah, that’s the problem,” Sam said, scratching the back of his neck in frustration. “I mean, I guess I was just hoping that maybe he’d said something to you that he hadn’t said to me. But … I don’t know Cas. I mean, well, how do you even feel about all of this?”

Castiel took his time answering the question. How did he feel about Dean Winchester? That was a complicated question. He knew what he wanted to say, and he knew what Dean thought he should say, but somewhere in the middle lay the truth. Dean would say they needed each other and leave it at that. But Castiel … he did need Dean. More than anyone he had ever known. Although Dean could be cruel when he felt betrayed, although they had both hurt each other countless times, Castiel couldn’t imagine his life without Dean Winchester. He’d had a long time to think while Lucifer was parading around in his vessel, and Dean had been at the forefront of his thoughts. Out of all the things he had missed while he was trapped in his own mind … When Dean had tried to free him from Lucifer, and he’d had that small moment of control – seeing the concern in Dean’s eyes, the desperation. That had snapped something in him, it had taken a moment to set in, but once Lucifer was gone, Castiel knew he never wanted to be parted from Dean like that ever again.

He took a deep breath, “I think … I think I do love him,” he said carefully, “emotions are … complicated. I’m not sure if what I feel, _how_ I feel, can really be compared to human emotion… but I know he means … everything … to me.” Sam only nodded silently, and Castiel felt like that silence was a sentencing of some sort. “Promise me,” he said, “that you won’t ever tell Dean that I said that.”

Sam chuckled, “yeah, sure man. Don’t worry about it. I won’t tell my brother you have a crush on him.”

“I’m serious,” Castiel insisted, “Dean is … don’t get me wrong your brother is very brave, but he is also terrified. Why do you think I haven’t tried to approach him about this before?” Dean Winchester liked being in charge of any given situation. When that secure position got threatened, Dean threw walls up to protect himself and started shutting people out. “I don’t want him to shut me out. I won’t risk it.”

Sam nodded, understanding, “So, you’re saying it’s better to continue as things are, rather than rock the boat?”

“Exactly,” Castiel responded. He did … _yearn…_ to be able to express how he felt to Dean. He clung to every opportunity he had to hug Dean, hold him close. He wished for more. But Castiel had been around for a long time, he knew how to be patient.

“I get that man, I really do,” Sam said, “and, I mean, it’s up to you. But I’ve learned that sometimes, if you don’t rock the boat, you could end up somewhere you never wanted to be.”


	5. Cosmic Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post 12x09 First Blood
> 
> Sam: “You talk to Cas yet?”
> 
> Dean: “No”
> 
> Sam: “So, what you’re just gonna keep walking past each other in the kitchen, not saying a word?”
> 
> Dean: “Maybe”

Sam sat in the kitchen, eating lunch and mindlessly scrolling through his phone. He couldn’t put into words how it felt to be back in the bunker. To be back home. Granted, being imprisoned by the secret service couldn’t really be compared to the time he’d spent trapped with Lucifer … it was just another trauma to add to his already extensive list. But it was behind him now. He was free.

He’d texted Eileen once he’d gotten his phone back. He hadn’t told her everything that had happened, not yet, but they’d been texting back and forth, about nothing, about everything. It was nice; talking to someone who understood the life, but without all the baggage he shared with Dean and Cas. Not that Eileen didn’t have her own baggage – you couldn’t be a hunter without it – but it was different. She didn’t see him as the boy with the demon blood, or the person who always needed saving from this year’s latest apocalypse. She didn’t know all his past traumas and mistakes. To her he was just … Sam.

It was a good feeling.

Sam looked up as Dean came into the room, grabbing something from the fridge. When Dean turned around Castiel had entered the small kitchen, and he looked like he had something to say. Dean took one look at him, then pushed past him to the table without a word. Castiel kept staring at him but Dean refused to look back. Sam glanced between the two of them, preparing himself for an argument, but they didn’t break the tension. Instead, Cas set his jaw stubbornly and left without a word.

So much for feeling good.

“Dude, seriously?” Sam said after a moment, and Dean finally looked up from his sandwich.

“What?” Dean asked

Sam huffed in frustration, “He saved our lives. He saved mom’s life. The least you could do is thank him.”

Dean scoffed, “he didn’t save our lives, he just delayed our deaths.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Come on, Dean –"

“No Sam, you don’t understand! _Cosmic Consequences_ , what does that even mean? We don’t have a time frame or an approximate threat level. Nothing! What if it’s something we can’t stop? What if something terrible happens to – to h—” Dean exhaled sharply, “To us.”

Sam shook his head, turning away from his brother. He always did this. If Sam or Cas were in danger, Dean would rush in, making a rash decision to save them, regardless of the consequences. But the second one of them did the same for him, consequences were suddenly the only thing that mattered.

“You’re going to have to talk to him eventually,” Sam said, but Dean continued as if Sam hadn’t spoken.

“You’re the one who said it, Sam,” Dean said, pointing an accusing finger, “when we first released the Darkness, you said ‘we need to change,’” he shook his head, “you and I have spent the last few years going back and forth, sacrificing everything to save each other, crossing lines that should never be crossed. But now we’ve dragged Cas into that loop with us, and there’s no way we’re ever going to break it if he thinks it’s ok to just … rain down _cosmic consequences_ on us.”

Sam had to admit that Dean had a point. This was part of a toxic pattern, but he also couldn’t blame Castiel for what he’d done. Sam met his brother’s eyes and simply asked, “would you really rather have let mom die for us, after we just got her back?”

Dean looked at Sam, steel-eyed and silent. Then he shook his head in frustration, grabbed his sandwich, and walked away.


	6. I Would Be There to Stop Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post 12x10 Lily Sunder has some regrets
> 
> Dean: “What Ishim said … you’re not weak Cas, you know that, right?”
> 
> Sam: “I mean obviously you’ve changed, but it’s all been for the better, man”
> 
> Dean: “and you have been with us every step of this long crazy coat ride and no matter how crazy it got you never backed down”
> 
> Sam: “and that takes real strength”
> 
> Cas: “thank you”

Sam, Dean, and Castiel sat around the table in the bunker, drinking and chatting. Castiel had an odd, twisted feeling, knowing that he was the only member of his old battalion still living. Even knowing that heaven had been corrupted, even with everything he had done, they were still his brothers. He still had fond memories of them and the years they’d spent together. And here he sat, with his … new battalion, his new family. He didn’t regret the choices he had made, but that didn’t erase the relationships he’d had before. Everything he had now destroyed.

Sam left for his room, and Dean moved to collect the now empty bottles. He paused and looked at Cas, “Hey, you alright?”

Castiel blinked and forced a smile, “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just … been a long day.”

“You can say that again,” Dean agreed, sitting back, “but hey, we won.”

“Did we Dean?” Cas asked.

“Well, yeah,” Dean responded, taken aback, “We got back safe, the bad guy’s dead … that’s a win in my book.”

Castiel said nothing to that. Normally, the Winchesters view of good and evil were more nuanced than Cas had been accustomed to before. But in this case, hearing Ishim reduced to “the bad guy” didn’t sit well with Castiel.

“Hey,” Dean said, noticing Castiel’s despondency, “Ishim was a dick. A lying, murdering, dick. He deserved what he got.”

“Ishim wasn’t the first superior I’ve found to be corrupted,” Castiel said evenly, “or the first friend to be cruel after I had disappointed him,” he added, eyes flickering up to Dean. It had struck Castiel as ironic to see how appalled Dean had been that Cas let Ishim speak to him so disrespectfully, when Dean himself had been treating him quite coldly. However, he knew the two weren’t even comparable. He had been irritated at Dean, but he knew that irritation wouldn’t last, it never did.

“I’m furious at Ishim for what he made me do, for what I was complicit in, but I remember him being good, at least in some ways. And Benjamin and Maribel … they didn’t deserve this.” He paused, “but Lily didn’t deserve to lose her child …. and it makes me worry if there were more missions he led us on under false pretenses. I don’t even know the number of my crimes. I meant what I told Lily, if she needs to kill me to complete her revenge, she is welcome.” Castiel didn’t want to die, but he knew he had to answer for his sins at some point.

Dean scoffed derisively, and Castiel looked up at him, a little offended. “Look, I’m sorry Cas,” Dean said, “I know… I _respect_ that you feel you need to pay for your past wrongs or whatever, and yes. What happened to Lily, what _you_ did to Lily, was pretty damn jacked-up. But if she ever comes looking for you, you know I would be there to stop her.”

“But why?” Castiel asked, almost before he could stop himself.

“Because of what we were talking about, _you’ve changed_ ” Dean insisted, “you are not the same angel you were back then, and yes. It’s been messy. Yeah, sometimes you make decisions that I don’t agree with – like with Billie –“ he added, obviously not ready to let that go, “but you care. You didn’t used to let yourself care, and that’s the difference between you and the other angels. You … I don’t know, it was like you knew what it was like to be human, even before you had a taste of it yourself.”

Dean was wrong of course, Castiel hadn’t had any idea what being human would be like before he lost his grace, but he appreciated the sentiment. And, in a way, he understood what Dean meant. Meeting Sam and Dean – he hadn’t only opened his mind to new ideas, he’d opened his heart. And Dean Winchester had made his way inside before Castiel could do anything to stop him.

Dean stood to leave, then paused, “What?” he asked, noticing a change in Castiel’s expression.

“Nothing, I’m just…” Castiel shrugged, “glad we’re talking again.”

Dean’s expression softened, and he lay a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, “Me too, man.” Their eyes met and for a moment Castiel thought that, maybe, Dean was about to say … _something_ , but then the moment ended. “Try not to worry me like that again, ok?” Dean said casually, turning the touch into a brotherly pat and heading off to bed.


	7. I Didn't Want To Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post 12x12 Stuck in the middle (with you)
> 
> "Knowing you, it... it's been the best part of my life. And the things that... the things we've shared together, they have changed me. You're my family. I love you. I love all of you."

Sam walked through the halls of the bunker, heading to his room. This day had taken a lot out of him. Seeing another yellow-eyed demon – he’d been terrified for a moment that Azazel was back. For a second, he was a 24-year-old kid again, filled with anger, hellbent on revenge, and scared out of his mind.

His phone vibrated and he paused to check it. A message from Eileen:

_I found the Ghoul. Got messy but I got it done. How’d that demon thing with your mom go?_

He smiled to himself. He started to write a response, but he wasn’t sure what to say. It hadn’t exactly been the kind of day you could sum up in a text. He hesitated, then glanced up and saw the number 15 on the door in he’d paused by – Castiel’s room. Cas had gotten hit with the worst of it that day.

Sam knocked lightly on the door, and opened it when Cas called for him to come in. He had a book open on his desk, but he didn’t seem to have been really reading it.   
“Hey,” Sam said, hovering in the doorway, “you doing alright?”

Castiel shrugged, “There is no trace of whatever that lance was doing to me,” he said, “once Crowley broke it, it was like I’d never been stabbed.”

Sam nodded, a little amused; of course Castiel would answer literally. He was _physically_ alright. Sometimes he was just as frustrating to talk to as Dean. “I know …” Sam started, coming further into the room, “I know this isn’t the first close call you’ve had,” they had all had way more than any one person should, “but I know that, even if you’ve been there before, its … never much fun.” Sam knew from experience that even when you’d literally faced down God’s sister, a gunshot to the wrong place could still be more terrifying. Death wasn’t picky and escaping it once didn’t mean you could escape it forever.

Castiel smiled wryly at Sam’s gross understatement, “No, it was not … _fun,_ ” he admitted, “it felt like … everything was on fire. Like I could feel bits of myself disintegrating slowly. And I knew there was nothing I could to do stop it.

Sam nodded empathetically. Slow but inevitable was the worst kind of death in his opinion. But at least it had given Castiel the opportunity to say some last words, although thankfully they hadn’t ended up being his last. “Thanks, for what you said, by the way,” Sam said, “I know maybe I wasn’t the … main audience but – well it meant a lot.”

“I did mean _all_ of you,” Castiel assured him, but Sam raised a skeptical eyebrow and Castiel rolled his eyes, “but yes, ok, maybe Dean was … my main focus.”

There was a part of Sam that wanted to tease Castiel the way Dean teased him about Eileen, but there was a severity to the situation that didn’t allow it. Instead he just said, “I think he got the message.”

“I didn’t want to die,” Castiel admitted, “without saying it at least once. Even if he’s not ready to say it back.”

“In my experience,” Sam said, “Dean has … his own way of saying it back.” Sam had learned long ago not to expect too many words of affection from his brother, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t show it in different ways.

His phone vibrated again and he checked it to see that Eileen had sent another text:

_BTW I picked up that book you recommended. Only read a few chapters but it’s good so far._

He smiled, then looked up at Cas, “sorry, I’ve gotta …” he gestured with his phone.

“Go,” Cas said, “I think I want to … talk to Dean.”

“That’s a fantastic idea,” Sam said, then he got up to head to his own room, typing:

_Today was pretty crazy. Glad you like the book. Wanna chat about it over video?_


	8. Something For The Road

Dean was beat. He was tired. He had been through too much in one day, and that was saying something. He had almost sacrificed himself to kill God’s sister once, but that day had nothing on this one. He’d thought _he_ was going to die that day, but today … watching Castiel …

He didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t think about it. But he didn’t think he’d be able to get that image out of his head soon. Castiel crumpled on the ground, the life ebbing from him with every breath he took. Dean had seen horrible things but … it never really got easier. He couldn’t stand seeing his family in pain, especially when he couldn’t do anything to help. He’d just … stood there and watched as that blackness oozed out of Castiel. Paralyzed. Defeated.

He hated that he had Crowley to thank. That Crowley had been the only one with the presence of mind to break the damn lance. Crowley could have just as easily taken off with the lance. What would Dean have done then? Why couldn’t he have thought of that? He’d been stupid and shocked and useless, and he hated it.

Dean looked down at the mixtape he’d set on the table in front of him. It wasn’t much, just some of his favorite Zeppelin songs. The thought of Castiel listening to some of these songs made Dean want to chuckle. He wouldn’t understand a lot of them. He could just imagine the concentrated, confused look on his stupid face. But … Dean wanted to give it to him. He felt like Cas deserved something like this. His music was like a little piece of himself.

Dean sat up at the sound of footsteps and saw Cas entering from the hallway. “Cas,” he greeted, “what are you doing up this late?”

Castiel looked at him, pulling a face very much like the one Dean had just been imagining, which made him smile. Dean knew Cas didn’t sleep, that was part of the joke, which Cas seemed to get after a moment when his furrowed brow softened, and he smiled slightly. “I’m just, looking for a book on Nephilim,” he said, indicating the bookshelf behind Dean, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Dean said, snatching the mixtape and hiding it beneath the table. “Just … thinking. Processing. Been quite a day.”

“It sure has,” Castiel agreed, pulling up a chair at the table near Dean, “are you ok?”

Dean scoffed, “Am _I_ ok?” unbelievable. This idiot had almost died today, and he asked if _Dean_ was ok? “Yeah, I mean, we all made it home, right? That’s what matters.”

Castiel nodded, although he stayed silent. Dean looked at him, wondering what he was thinking. Unbidden, the memory came back to Dean’s mind. Castiel, looking up at him, helpless and dying. _I love you_ , he’d said, breaking eye contact. That wasn’t a phrase Dean had heard much in his life. He could count on one hand the times he remembered someone saying it to him. And although Cas had been speaking to all three of them – him, Sam, and their mom – Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that it had meant something … more.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Castiel said, breaking into Dean’s train of thought, “I think I have on lead on Kelly.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Dean said. At first it had bothered him that Cas didn’t want their help on this, but he knew Cas would call them if he found anything. He was smart enough to not take this on by himself. “Here,” he held the mixtape out, unceremoniously, “something for the road.”

Cas took the tape, examining the title, and a soft smile came to his face, “Thank you,” he said, meeting Dean’s eyes.

He understood what it meant.


	9. I’m Hurt Because I Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12x19 The Future

Dean stared at the algorithm running on his laptop, although his mind wouldn’t let him focus. He was so … angry. How could Cas do this? Would it really have hurt to at least call? Tell them where he was going, what his plan was? Then Dean would’ve been able to tell him what a stupid idea it was.

A knock came to his door but Dean pointedly ignored it. Castiel opened the door anyway, “Sorry, Dean,” he said, and Dean didn’t look at him. “Um, I just wanted to return this,” he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the tape Dean had given him, laying it on the desk.

Dean was still angry. He was still hurting. He still didn’t want to even look at Castiel’s stupid face. But seeing the tape … he remembered why he’d given it to Cas. Remembered the day they’d all thought Cas was going to die. He might be furious at Castiel right now, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t meant it when he’d given it to him. “It's a gift,” he said, still not looking up, but holding the tape back out toward Castiel, “You keep those.”

“Oh,” Cas said, taking it back. He took a breath, and for a moment Dean thought he was going to say something. But then he turned to leave.

“Cas,” Dean said, stopping him. He knew he wasn’t actually angry. It was like after Billie all over again. He was worried so he acted angry, he put Cas down and pushed him away. “You can’t… With everything that’s going on, you can’t just go dark like that.” Hearing Cas say that he’d received Dean’s messages, that he knew Dean was calling him, that Dean needed him, and he hadn’t bothered to respond… it hurt more than Dean liked to admit. But all that time not hearing from Cas, not knowing what he had gotten himself into, or if he was even still alive? That hurt worse. “We didn’t know what happened to you. We were worried. That’s not okay.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to add to your distress,” Castiel responded, and Dean shook his head, still not looking at the angel. That’s not what he needed to hear.

“I…” Castiel started, but then paused, searching for words, “Dean, I just keep failing. Again, and again. When you were taken, I searched for months and I couldn’t find you. And then Kelly escaped on my watch, and I couldn’t find her. And I just wanted… I needed to come back here with a win for you. For myself.”

“You think you’re the only one rolling snake eyes here?” Dean asked, finally turning away from his laptop screen. It was obvious Castiel wasn’t sure what that meant but Dean continued. “Me and Sam, we had her. We had Kelly and we lost her.” _But maybe we would’ve stood a chance if you were there_ , he thought.

Castiel looked pensive, “and if you find her again?”

“Sam’s working on it.” Dean assured him, “Of course, he’s hellbent on finding something that doesn’t mean killing her or her kid.”

“Right, and if he doesn’t find something?” Castiel asked, and Dean didn’t like the turn the conversation was taking, “If you run out of time; could _either of you_ kill an innocent?”

Dean met Castiel’s eyes, daring him to pretend that Dean hadn’t already done countless unspeakable things. But after a moment, Dean looked away. He knew Castiel was right. No matter how much they believed it to be necessary, he and Sam would not be able to kill Kelly. He didn’t want to be the kind of person who could. Never again. “We will find a better way,” he said in an almost resigned tone.

“You mean, _we_?” Castiel asked, gesturing between the two of them with the hand that still held the cassette tape.

“Yes, dumbass. We.” Dean answered with no hesitation. How could Castiel doubt that? “You, me, and Sam, we’re just better together,” he said, standing. “So now that you’re back, let’s go, Team Free Will,” though they hadn’t used that name in years it was still who they were. Fighting against what the powers that be said was right and using their own agency and moral compasses to let everyone have a fair shot. They were going to save Kelly and this baby and help them live normal lives, away from the conniving plots of angels and demons. But Team Free Will wasn’t complete without Castiel. “Let’s get it done.”

“I’d like that” Castiel said softly, not meeting Dean’s eyes.

“Great,” Dean said, and he couldn’t help but feel … _exposed_ somehow. Like he’d said too much, but somehow not enough. “I’d like a beer,” he said and pushed passed Castiel into the bunker hallway.


	10. I Hurt You Because I Love You

Castiel stood outside Dean’s door, hesitant to enter, but knowing that he had to. He knocked, and when no answer came, he pushed the door open. Dean sat at the desk, staring at his computer as numbers flashes across the screen. Deliberately not looking up.

“Sorry Dean,” Castiel said, hovering in the doorway. Dean still radiated anger. Castiel had known he would be upset; had known he wouldn’t understand. But, as much as Castiel hated lying to the Winchesters, he had to, for their own good. “Um, I just wanted to return this,” he said, placing the cassette tape Dean had given him on the desk. He knew that Dean giving it to him had meant … _something_ special, and he hoped returning the gesture would help to heal some wounds. At least if Cas died today Dean would be able to have his favorite music back.

“It's a gift,” Dean said gruffly, picking the tape up and holding it back to him, although his eyes were still locked on the screen, “You keep those.”

“Oh.” Castiel wasn’t sure if he should feel touched or guilty. He knew the tape wasn’t just a tape to Dean. He opened his mouth to speak, to apologize, to try and explain himself… but nothing came. He glanced toward Dean’s pillow, where he knew the colt was hidden, but pushed the thought away and turned to leave.

“Cas,” Dean said, and Castiel stopped “You can’t… With everything that’s going on, you can’t just go dark like that. We didn’t know what happened to you,” although Dean still refused to look at him, Castiel could tell that his tone was softer, more earnest than before. He was angry, but it was because he cared. He cared too much, sometimes. It would be so much easier to take care of him if he didn’t. “We were worried. That’s not okay.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to add to your distress,” Castiel said, and he meant it. He knew if he had told Dean what he was doing; about working with the other angels and going after Dagon – Dean would be much more worried than he already was. He didn’t trust other angels, and he didn’t trust any plan that he hadn’t come up with on his own. He would have put all of his efforts into finding and stopping Castiel, and then Cas wouldn’t be able to save him.

But Castiel could tell from the way Dean’s jaw tightened that he didn’t accept that as an apology. “I…” he started, but what was he even going to say? “Dean, I just keep failing. Again, and again. When you were taken, I searched for months and I couldn’t find you. And then Kelly escaped on my watch, and I couldn’t find her. And I just wanted –” No, wanted wasn’t the right word. The pain he’d felt, at having failed Sam and Dean over and over … he didn’t just _want_ to make it up to them, “I _needed_ to come back here with a win for you. For myself.”

“You think you’re the only one rolling snake eyes here?” Dean asked, finally turning to face him. But he didn’t understand. Dean was always so sure of himself. Even when he was wrong, he believed he was right. But Castiel … he wasn’t certain of anything anymore. He felt like every time he tried to do the right thing, it turned out wrong. He couldn’t be a good angel, but he didn’t know how to be a good Winchester either. He couldn’t blindly follow orders anymore, but he knew he wasn’t the right person to give them. The least he could do, the _only_ thing he could do right now, was use his connection to heaven to save the Winchesters from this mess they’d gotten into. But Dean didn’t see that. He always grew cold when Castiel disappointed him, but once Dean had moved on, he acted as though nothing had happened. As though his forgiveness should have been all Castiel needed to keep moving forward.

Castiel wished that was enough.

Dean continued, comparing his small failures to Castiel’s, as though they even held a candle to his, “Me and Sam, we had her. We had Kelly and we lost her.”

“And if you find her again?” Castiel asked, hoping that maybe, looking back on this conversation, Dean would understand why he’d done what he was about to do.

“Sam’s working on it,” Dean said, making eye contact with as much deliberation as he had used avoiding it this whole time, “Of course, he’s hellbent on finding something that doesn’t mean killing her or her kid.”

“Right, and if he doesn’t find something?” Castiel asked, already knowing the answer, “If you run out of time; could _either of you_ kill an innocent?”

Dean had look away, but he turned his gaze back to Castiel. He looked determined, like an immovable stone, but Castiel held his gaze, looking past the defenses. He knew no matter how tough a face Dean Winchester put on; inside he was a good man. And a good man couldn’t kill an innocent woman and her child.

“We will find a better way,” Dean answered evasively.

“You mean, _we_?” Castiel asked, gesturing between the two of them.

“Yes, dumbass. We.” Dean answered, his tone said Castiel was an idiot to have asked that. And yet … despite the condescending tone Castiel felt something like a warm glow inside himself. “You, me, and Sam, we’re just better together,” Dean said, standing, his voice becoming more sincere, less laced with frustration. “So now that you’re back, let’s go, Team Free Will,” Cas felt himself nodding slightly at the reference to years before. Days spent in Bobby’s cabin, preparing to stop the apocalypse. It was fitting, with the next apocalypse on the horizon. And reassuring, as though nothing had really changed. It was the three of them up against the world, “Let’s get it done.”

“I’d like that,” Castiel said, not meeting Dean’s eyes. He really would. He wished that he could honestly accept Dean’s offer, and the three of them could rush in, guns blazing, and save the world.

But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He knew that the only sure way to make sure they stayed safe from Dagon, from the Nephilim, and from making a choice they never could, was if he kept them away from all of this. 

“Great,” Dean said, and for a moment Cas almost wanted to stop him. To confess. But he didn’t. “I’d like a beer,” Dean said, hastily pushing past him and leaving Castiel alone in his room.

His eyes found their way back to Dean’s pillow, where the colt lay, unguarded. He almost hated that it had worked. He hadn’t been sure how to get Dean out of his room, but he knew that he needed the colt for the ambush he was planning with the other angels.

Dean would be angry, when he noticed it was missing. But he would forgive him, once he understood. He had to.

Castiel already wasn’t a good man. He had blood on his hands that went back eons. He wouldn’t let Dean or Sam add this crime to their conscious. He needed them to stay good men.


	11. You Don’t Have to Call All The Shots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post 12x19 The Future
> 
> Sam: “Then – Then why didn't you call us? Cas, we could've helped you.”
> 
> Castiel: “I know. I wanted to keep you out of this. I-I was trying to keep you safe.”
> 
> Dean: “You're not our babysitter, Cass, okay? That is not your job.”

Sam and Dean arrived at the bunker; beat up, sore and tired. Which wasn’t unusual. They were perpetually beat up, sore, and tired. But it wasn’t every day they watched their best friend dissolve a Prince of Hell and then take off with the mother of Lucifer’s child.

Sam had sat in silence most of the car ride home, silently processing everything that had happened that day, while Dean processed it loudly in the driver seat. He hadn’t shut up for more than a minute since they’d woken up in the park with Castiel and Kelly long gone.

“What the HELL was he thinking?” Dean yelled for maybe the fortieth time, “I mean, as if lying to us and stealing from us wasn’t bad enough. ‘He did it for us,’” Dean repeated mockingly. “For _US!?”_ he laughed derisively and shook his head. “If he wanted to help us maybe he could’ve, I don’t know, _picked up his damn phone when we needed him_. Maybe we could’ve knocked some common sense into him.”

Sam sighed, but he’d been listening to this for too long to keep his mouth shut any longer, “Listen Dean, I know you don’t want to hear this, but sometimes you need to consider that … maybe you’re not always right. Maybe we don’t understand why Cas is acting the way he is, but maybe he knows something we don’t. Maybe what he’s doing makes perfect sense. You don’t have to call all shots, Dean.”

Dean look at Sam like he had gone insane, but Sam was tired of letting Dean take charge in everything. “Are you serious?” Dean asked, “I’m sorry Sam, but do you really want me to list the _countless_ times Cas’s decisions – or yours – have led us into deeper trouble than we already were? Sorry, Sammy, but I call the shots cause I seem to be the only one capable of making them!”

Sam started at Dean, wide eyed. He’d spent so many years sighing and letting Dean take the wheel, following was easier than leading after all. He’d learned that fighting him hardly ever worked, but it astounded him that Dean seemed blinded to his own mistakes. Blinded to his own hypocrisy. As if Dean didn’t hold the blame for half the things they’d gone through.

“That is exactly the problem,” Sam said, “you think it’s all on you, that you’re the only one who can do anything. You always have. Hell, even when we’re on a basic hunt, you rarely listen to me once you’ve made up your mind. You go charging off to ‘gank the witch’ or whatever, even when all the evidence points to you being wrong!” That was just the most recent example Sam could think of, but it was something that had bothered him for a long time.

Dean threw his hands up in exasperation, “Ok Sammy, what do you want me to say? ‘you were right?’ It wasn’t a witch; it wasn’t a ghost either but y’know, who cares? And hey, I decided to go along with this whole Men of Letters thing, didn’t I? I followed your lead on that one, and where did that get us? Oh, right, Mick murdered an innocent kid, and they still keep sending us on hunts like we’re their wolfhounds or something.”

Sam shook his head; this was a hole he did not want to dig too far into. He shouldn’t have opened it up. But talking about the Men of Letters and everything would lead to discussions about Mom, and Sam wasn’t ready to have those with Dean. Their relationship had been strained every since Dean realized it was her fault Cas had almost died Not to mention he was starting to regret the Men of Letters decision himself.

“Look, ok,” he said, taking a deep breath to calm himself, “this isn’t about me, this is about Cas.” Dean rolled his eyes, and Sam knew he thought Sam was surrendering. He was wrong, Sam just knew what his priorities were, and they didn’t include resurfacing old arguments that would never be solved. “Listen, I’m mad too, I wish he’d talked to us, I wish we could tackle these problems together, but have you ever stopped to wonder why he keeps doing this? This isn’t the first time he’s gone off and tried to fix something all by himself.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “I don’t know Sam, I really don’t. I know he’s not stupid, so I can’t understand why he keeps acting like it.”

“Maybe because you treat him like he is.”

“What?” Dean snapped.

“You do!” Sam retorted, “He said he needed a win, right? That’s what he’s doing. You treat him like an idiot all the time, like he can’t do anything by himself. Maybe he just wants to show you, to show himself, that he can! He used to be one of heaven’s greatest warriors, but what has he been since he threw his lot in with us?”  
“He’s been _family!”_ Dean yelled, slamming his hand on the table.

Sam stared at Dean, watching his breathing, waiting for his brother’s anger to subside. Eventually, he spoke, knowing his words would cut but hoping Dean would actually hear them, and not just throw them aside in anger, “Yeah, well … _family_ deserves a seat at the table, _family_ deserves trust, _family_ deserves forgiveness,” he shook his head, “I know he’s hurt you Dean. But have you ever stopped to consider how much you hurt him?”


	12. That’s My Fault, Isn’t It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post 12x22
> 
> Mary: “Since I’ve been back, I know I’ve been distant. Cold even. Leaving you, working with them… I was trying to make things right. Just … from a distance. Because being here with you was too hard. … seeing what I’d done to you. To Sam. I …”
> 
> Dean: “Mom what you did. The Deal. Everything that’s happened since. Has made us who we are. And we who are? We kick ass. We save the world. “

The Winchesters finished cleaning up the bunker, although Sam thought it would still smell like blood for days. All three of them sat down, cracking open some well-earned beer.

“So, run this by me again,” Mary said, “Castiel is … where?”

“With Lucifer’s baby momma,” Dean answered, “but we don’t know where cause he turned off his phone.”

“Right,” Mary said with a nod, “and he’s being … mind controlled?”

“Ah – We don’t know that for sure,” Sam interjected before Dean could speak. “All we know is he say he has _faith_ in this unborn Nephilim.”

“The … son of Satan,” Mary repeated.

“Yeah,” Dean said, rolling his eyes, “which Cas would never say so …”

“Yeah, it was … pretty weird,” Sam conceded, “but right now we just have to find them and keep them safe. Cause Lucifer is back, somehow.”

Dean groaned and leaned back in his chair. “I am not – I can’t deal with this right now,” he looked exhausted, and after everything that had happened the past few days – being trapped in the bunker with Lady Bevel, organizing the hunters, whatever he’d done to get mom back – Sam couldn’t blame him. “I need … a shower,” Dean said, standing up, “and like, at least 2 hours of sleep.”

“I – uh – yeah,” Sam said with a nod, “Dean is right. We need to be rested if we’re going to talk about … all of this,” he hesitated, and hated that even now he sometimes didn’t want to say Lucifer’s name. He thought he’d worked past all that, but some things didn’t heal.

“Right, ok,” Dean said, walking off, “See you in the morning.”

Sam had a feeling Dean wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight anyway.

“Sam,” Mary said as he stood, “how are … how _have_ you boys been?”

Sam opened his mouth, but he wasn’t sure he knew how to answer that. He hadn’t seen his mom since they’d killed the Alpha Vampire, and although they’d kept in touch with occasional texts and phone calls – most of those going through Dean – he still didn’t know how to talk to her. She was his mom, and he loved her, he knew that, but still …

Mary looked down, “I know …” She said, then restarted, “I wanted to be a good mom,” she said, meeting Sam’s eyes. “When I woke up in the forest and Dean found me, I was so determined to be good to you, to make up for lost time. But … I guess I never got much practice at it,” she said with a wry chuckle, “I didn’t know how to … be there for you.”

“It’s ok, Mom,” Sam said, almost instinctually, “we get it.” And he did. He had always been the one in the family to take the brunt of the emotional baggage. He hadn’t really expected that to change when Mary arrived.

“There was so much I wasn’t there for,” Mary continued, looking at Sam with sympathy, “Dean told me – I mean I knew you’d both been through hell –” Sam wished she meant that metaphorically, “But Dean said you lost your soul. And that’s …” she bit her lip and Sam realized she was on the verge of tears, “that’s my fault, isn’t it?”  


“Hey, no,” Sam said, wrapping her in his arms. He didn’t like being reminded of that, his time without a soul. He didn’t like knowing that person was still in him, in some way. “No, Mom, if you’re going to blame anyone blame Lucifer. Blame Azazel. None of that was on you.”

She rested her head on his chest, then laughed weakly, “Oh Sammy,” she said, stepping back and holding him at arm’s length, looking up at his face, “how did you get so big?”

He chuckled sadly, “Oh, you know how time flies.”

Mary took a moment to compose herself, and Sam tried to understand the twisted-up emotions he was feeling. He loved his mom. That was a decision. He had decided to love her, to trust her, when she’d picked the Men of Letters. Despite how badly that had gone, he wanted to keep choosing her. The way he’d chosen Dean over and over and over again. But building a relationship with a 33 year gap – that was going to take time.

After a few moments, Mary spoke again, “How is Dean? I mean … I remember how angry he was that Castiel almost died –” guilt flickered across her eyes, “I can’t imagine he’s been dealing with this disappearance well.”

Sam sighed, “I don’t – I know we’ll get him back, we always do. But Dean – he worries. And when it comes to Cas, that worry …” he didn’t want to say it destroyed him, but it was always a struggle to get Dean to focus on anything other than Castiel when there was something wrong. And right now, something was very wrong.

“Have they …” Mary began hesitantly, “talked?”

Sam knew what she meant but he shook his head, “not that I know of. I mean … after what happened with Ramiel there was … something,” he said, “but with Cas going AWOL and then stealing the colt … they haven’t really had an opportunity.”

Mary nodded with determination, “We’re going to get Castiel back,” she said, “I’m not losing any of my boys.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post 12x23 All Along the Watchtower
> 
> Cas: “are you alright?”
> 
> Dean: “No Cas, I’m pretty far from alright.”

“Dean,” Sam’s voice sounded like it was underwater. Dean had a sense that he was there, running toward him, but it wasn’t like it mattered. “Dean,” Sam repeated, and Dean thought he felt a pressure on his shoulder; a hand. He blinked, and things started to come back into focus, he saw Sam, his little brother, kneeling in the dirt beside him. Sam looked worried, like he wanted Dean to get up, do something. But Dean didn’t want to do anything.

“He’s—” he took a shaky breath, and, involuntarily, his eyes darted down to the body that lay in front of him. The empty shell that used to be Castiel.

“I know,” Sam said gently, but Dean could tell he was in a hurry. There was a problem to fix, they could grieve later. “I know Dean, and I can’t – I don’t know –”

“I loved him,” Dean heard himself saying, “I _need_ him, Sammy. I don’t –” he took another shuttering breath, fighting the tears that came to his eyes.

“I know,” Sam said again, and this time the hurried tone was gone.

The tears started to fall, and they were hot, angry tears. Angry at Cas, angry at himself, angry at Chuck for ever letting any of this happen. “Why did he do it?” he asked, unsure what exactly he was referring to. Not answering his phone? Lying to them? Running off with Kelly? Charging against Lucifer, knowing he would lose? “Why does he always have to be so goddamn stupid?” Dean asked, his voice small, “why couldn’t he – why didn’t we just –”

And then Sam’s arms were around him, and he was crying into his brother’s shoulder. Kneeling in the dirt, next to the corpse of the angel he loved.


End file.
